


your lover, smitten, straining your tea

by captainraz



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Falling in love in the quiet spaces, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainraz/pseuds/captainraz
Summary: After the Conclave, Leliana needs a friend. She gets so much more than that.OrFalling in love, one cup of tea at a time.
Relationships: Leliana/Cassandra Pentaghast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	your lover, smitten, straining your tea

It began with tea, of all things.

* * *

Night had long since crept over Haven yet the Nightingale still worked in her tent, steadfastly ignoring the misting of her breath, her stiff frozen fingers and the large wet flakes falling outside. Leliana had no plans to retire anytime soon; there was too much to do, too much at stake here for her to allow such petty things as her need to sleep to interfere with carrying out her duties.

Her keen ears caught the sound of footsteps approaching the tent, though the snow on the ground muffled them. The Left Hand looked up from her ciphers and codes to see Cassandra standing there wordlessly, arm outstretched with a steaming mug in her hand.

Leliana waited for Cassandra to say something, but the words never came. She simply continued to stand there, holding a mug out in a clear offer. After several moments, Leliana relented and took the drink.

It was a mug of tea, brewed strong with the tiniest dash of milk; exactly how she liked. She took a tentative sip, savouring the sensation of warmth returning to her body as she swallowed. She was colder than she'd realised.

Still without saying a word, Cassandra gestured to a pair of crates in the corner of Leliana's tent. They made their way over and sat, Leliana enjoying the solid warmth of the Right Hand where her shoulder and thigh pressed against her own.

Cassandra clutched her own mug, full of something with a strong herbal smell; valerian and licorice root tea, her preferred drink before she retired for the night. Clearly, Cassandra had decided Leliana needed her own night time beverage.

The Seeker wasn't wrong. When had Leliana last stopped to eat or drink? A little after noon, when Josephine had harried her into a light meal in the Ambassador's office under the guise of Inquisition business? Or had that been yesterday? The fact Leliana wasn't certain told her it had been far too long.

And Cassandra had noticed. And, being Cassandra, had taken it upon herself to rectify the problem in the most forthright manner possible.

Leliana expected this would be where she would receive a rebuke for working so hard and so late, for ignoring her body's requirements in favour of what the Inquisition needed. It wouldn't be the first time the Left Hand had been told off by the Right. Perhaps Cassandra would interrogate her, prod at the hurts Leliana kept hidden deep inside to tease out the reason she allowed herself to come dangerously close to freezing to death.

Cassandra was very good at interrogations, no matter what the recent experience with Varric might suggest.

But still Cassandra said nothing. She merely sat next to Leliana sipping quietly at her own drink, the silence comfortable and worn; the sort of silence enjoyed with an old friend. Leliana did the same, working her way through the gifted drink until both mugs were empty.

And still the interrogation didn't come. Instead Cassandra rose, took the mug from Leliana's no longer frozen fingers and smiled gently. "Good night, Leliana," she said, the first words spoken between them since she'd arrived in the tent.

"Good night, Cassandra," Leliana replied, voice creaky from disuse. How long had it been since she'd last said anything? Hours at least. "Go with the Maker."

Cassandra nodded and said "sleep well" before turning on her heel and striding back towards the Chantry, no doubt to rinse out the mugs and retire to her quarters for the night.

Leliana looked back at her desk, at the papers strewn across it. They contained the threads of a hundred different schemes and missions for the Inquisition, all part of the Spymaster's web. It was necessary work if they were ever to close the Breach and discover the Divine's murderer. But for the first time in days—weeks even—work held no appeal to Leliana.

She sighed. There wasn't anything in the pile that could not reasonably wait until morning, until her ravens returned with messages from her agents. She rose on stiff legs from her improvised seat and followed Cassandra to retire for the night.

Sleep well, Cassandra had said. Perhaps she would, if the Maker was kind.

* * *

It became a habit after that.

Cassandra was there again the next night, and the next. She always appeared around the same time, long after most of the others were already asleep, when even the noise from the tavern had died down.

Each night Leliana expected questions, comments, advice; expected Cassandra to ask why Leliana pushed herself so hard, expected her to see through any excuses Leliana might have and try to discuss the grief they both shared. But she never did. She said nothing beyond wishing Leliana goodnight, never initiated conversation, difficult or otherwise. She brought Leliana a mug of tea made just the way she liked and they sat together sipping their drinks and enjoying each other's company.

This happened every night for weeks. Until one night it didn't. Cassandra had gone to the Hinterlands with the Herald on some necessary business for the Inquisition and wasn't likely to return for days at least.

Leliana missed her.

She missed her warmth and the comforting silence. She missed having a cup of tea made exactly the way she liked when she most needed something to chase the cold out of her bones.

The sensation of missing Cassandra was a hollow ache inside her chest. It took up residence next to her grief for Justinia and, in the cold quiet hours of the night, Leliana could not have told you which ache ran the deepest.

By now Cassandra's visits had made an impression. They had a _routine_. So, instead of working through the time she would have spent with Cassandra, Leliana found herself in the kitchens each night making a mug of tea for herself. She even joined Josie once or twice in her office and while the Ambassador's chat and gossip about the goings-on of the nobles and the latest rumours at court wasn't the same as Cassandra's comforting presence and steadfast silence, it was still better than spending time out in her tent staring at her coded messages.

And even without Cassandra there, Leliana found she still retired to her bed after her tea and slept better than she had in the weeks following the explosion at the conclave; not as well as she slept after spending time with Cassandra, but better than she would otherwise.

And when Cassandra returned, so too did the evening visits. It soothed Leliana's soul somehow, gave her something to look forward to each day and, though she never said such out loud, she was deeply grateful to Cassandra for their time together. Somehow the Seeker had known exactly what Leliana needed even before she did herself and quietly provided it with no expectations the favour would be returned or even that they would have a conversation. And, in having that unconscious need met, something within Leliana unfurled in Cassandra's presence, opened up and began to heal.

* * *

They put the nightly visits on hold during the Inquisition's forced move to Skyhold. Both tea and spare time were scarce during the frozen march. But once Leliana had established herself in the Rookery above the library, Cassandra once again came bearing tea.

This time though, Leliana found the silences weren't enough. For the first time she _wanted_ to speak, wanted to open to her companion. She began asking after the events of Cassandra's day, telling amusing anecdotes about what their companions had been up to around the hold and some lighter news coming in from the outside world.

Cassandra responded in kind, as though all along she'd been waiting for Leliana to begin the conversation. It was a technique Leliana knew well from her time as a bard; give your target enough silence to feel uncomfortable and they would admit everything if only to fill the empty air. Leliana was somewhat annoyed such a simple interrogation technique had worked on her, though pleased she had lasted much longer than anyone she'd ever used it on.

Perhaps it was a testament to her in fortitude; perhaps it was because the silences had never felt uncomfortable.

Eventually though, their conversations turned to weightier subjects. It was inevitable with all the history that lay between the two of them;, with the grief they shared in the aftermath of the Conclave. Slowly, so slowly, Leliana spoke of Justinia, and of Dorothea, the woman she had been before ascending the Sunburst Throne. She spoke of the woman's kindness and fortitude and her steadfast belief in the Maker and His children.

In return, Cassandra shared her own memories of the late Divine and it fascinated Leliana to observe the different women they had known. Leliana half expected Cassandra to only open up as far as she had, but again Cassandra surprised her. Taking up the mantle of the conversation and speaking of her own loved ones. She spoke of Byron—her mentor in the Seekers—and of Divine Beatrix and Regalyan D'Marcell and the events that had brought them all together, however briefly. She spoke of her grief at losing him, though their romantic relationship had ended many years prior.

Cassandra even spoke a little of Anthony, of the brother she'd loved so dearly and whose premature death had so dramatically shaped the course of her life.

This encouraged Leliana to open up further, wanting to repay the trust Cassandra had shown her. She told tales of her time with the Warden during the Blight, even speaking of her years as a Bard and her relationship with Marjolaine, though she did not go into detail. She spoke of her first meeting with Josephine and her joy in leading the young Antivan diplomat so thoroughly astray.

Leliana's retelling of how Josephine's under things ended up pinned to the Chantry board had Cassandra laughing so hard tears ran down her face. The sight of it caused something to tug sharply in Leliana's chest; a sensation she had not felt in a long time, and indeed she had steeled herself to never feel again. It was a one-off, she told herself, an understandable reaction to the pure and honest joy of her friend's laughter. Especially the laughter of a friend who laughed so rarely and had precious few reasons in her life to laugh so hard.

Leliana was, after all, an excellent liar, even to herself.

* * *

Things changed after that.

The night Cassandra returned from Caer Oswin Leliana went to her. She found Cassandra sat at the table in her quarters above the forge, staring blankly at a thick leather-bound book bearing the sigil of the Seekers Order. Wordlessly, she sat opposite Cassandra and slid over a mug of her favourite valerian and licorice root tea.

For the first time in weeks, neither of them said a word. They sat and sipped their drinks in silence, much like they had at the beginning. When both mugs were empty Leliana rose and reached over the table to collect Cassandra's mug. Cassandra caught Leliana's hand as she reached, looking her in the eye for the first time that evening.

"Thank you," she said simply, her voice hoarse and eyes full of unfathomable grief and sadness.

"Anything for you," Leliana said, astonished to realise that, for possibly the first time in her life, she meant it.

The next night Cassandra came to see her in the Rookery as usual, and though the conversation was less easy and open between them than it had been of late, she still seemed much improved in herself. The shadows under her eyes looked a little less deep, her face a little less strained. And the next night Cassandra was even more herself. And the next night, and the next.

Every small sign of Cassandra returning to normal was a balm to Leliana's soul. Each smile she coaxed out of the Seeker, a bright spot of joy she held dear.

Was this how it had been for Cassandra all these months, Leliana wondered. Watching her slowly come back to herself, watching her open up little by little with each mug of tea and each evening of company.

And had Cassandra felt the same longing in her chest at the sight? Had she felt the same desire Leliana could no longer deny, to go further and do more. To comfort and hold and care for her. Had Cassandra been visiting all this time simply as a favour to a friend and long-standing colleague, or was there more to it?

Leliana was desperate to know the answers, but none of her skills as a bard or spymaster would help her find them.

There was but one method of finding the truth when it came to Cassandra Pentaghast; ask directly. It went against everything Leliana had learned to keep herself safe and alive. But she had already opened herself up to Cassandra and had not been weakened by it, but was stronger instead. Perhaps this next step would not be a weakness either. Perhaps it would bring her such strength she had never known before.

Cassandra was not Marjolaine, that much was certain. No matter the answer, no matter the nature of Cassandra's own feelings, she would not hold Leliana's emotions against her. She would not see a weakness to be exploited.

She could bare her heart and soul to Cassandra, secure in the knowledge she would come out unscathed. Cassandra was safe. Cassandra was her friend.

Leliana held that knowledge tight to her chest, even as she planned her move.

* * *

The next night when Cassandra came bearing tea, Leliana waited for her with her hood down for the first time, not even pretending to work. Cassandra chuckled at the sight.

"Why do I feel as though you are about to interrogate me?" she joked, putting Leliana's mug down on the table.

Leliana allowed herself a smile. "Do you think this will be the last thing you ever see, my face smiling down at you as you are branded an enemy of the Chantry?" She chuckled, though it was far less sinister than it might have been under the circumstances. "Fear not Cassandra, you are safe from my clutches, for the most part." It had been a long time since Leliana had tried to flirt for her own pleasure, but it turned out her skills hadn't entirely rusted away.

Cassandra shot her a wicked look over the top of her mug. "Only for the most part? Should I have brought my sword?"

Leliana shook her head, picking up her mug for a long fortifying sip. That Cassandra flirted back was encouraging, but she had plans for more than flirting. "I have something to confess," she said softly.

"Mother Gisele might be better in that case. I'm a warrior, not a cleric."

"True enough, but your ears are the ones that need to hear this particular confession. Besides, no Revered Mother has enough absolution for all my sins, only the Maker himself has the power to forgive me."

Cassandra saluted with her mug, her only acknowledgement of the blood they had shed between them for the sake of the Divine and her Chantry.

"I don't think I've ever thanked you for these evenings. I do not know what made you to come to me that night in Haven, but I am grateful for it. Our evenings together have not only healed me in many ways, they have become precious to me."

"To me as well. I miss them when I am away from Skyhold." Cassandra's voice was soft, almost fond; a far cry from her usual brash manner of speech. That Cassandra took the time to gentle herself for Leliana's sake caused much fluttering in her stomach.

"I miss _you_ when you are away from Skyhold," she said. It was perhaps the most blunt and forthright thing Leliana had ever said to Cassandra, and from the way the Seeker's eyes widened at the confession, she knew it too.

Leliana rose from her seat and made her way round the table to Cassandra. She leaned against the sturdy wood, her thigh brushing close enough to Cassandra's she could feel the heat radiating from her, much like she had that first night. Cassandra was so _warm_ and sturdy, she grounded Leliana without even trying to, gave her an anchor without even knowing it.

She placed her mug of tea carefully on the table and took the Seeker's hand. Cassandra put her own mug down. The Seeker's eyes had gone wary at this abrupt departure from their routine, but her body remained relaxed. She was not afraid.

"I do not think I can properly describe the gift you have given me," Leliana said, pitching her voice low and intimate. "You gave me what I needed, even when I did not know it myself. You have given me quiet companionship that asks nothing of me, given me time and room to heal and come back to myself. It is an immeasurably precious gift I will forever be grateful for, and I find I have quite fallen in love with you for it."

Cassandra's sharp inhale was the only sound in the Rookery following Leliana's confession, though the Nightingale could hear her own heart thundering within her palms from where she offered it to the Seeker. She was about to add that of course she didn't expect Cassandra to return her feelings when the other woman broke into a broad smile.

"Leliana," she said, her voice rough and warm, like a beloved woollen blanket, "don't you know I have loved you all along?"

Now it was Leliana's turn to take a sharp breath in. Her head swam with this new knowledge. She had imagined what it might be like for Cassandra to return her feelings, but to learn she had acted out of love this whole time? That was... astonishing, even in this world where miracles were performed every day. Leliana's memories told her Cassandra's behaviour towards her had not changed over the course of these evening together; that there had been no noticeable difference in the way she acted around Leliana. Her feelings now were the same as when Cassandra had first come to her, that frigid night in Haven. Leliana had assumed it meant Cassandra did not share her feelings. It had not occurred to her there might be another possibility.

"How long?" Leliana croaked, the sinister Left Hand of the Divine nowhere to be found. Only a woman; broken and healed and _loved_.

"For years, probably. I did not realise until after the Conclave. When I sent you to the forward camp ahead of myself and the Inquisitor... we fought our way through so many demons I worried you might not have made it." Cassandra's voice was rough with the confession, full of remembered emotion. "I thought to myself, "please let her have made it. Please, Maker, do not take her from me too." I have never been so glad to hear you arguing with Chancellor Roderick as I was that day."

Leliana laughed, tears falling from her eyes. "And you didn't say anything?"

"I am not always adept at reading people's emotions," Cassandra admitted, reaching out to take Leliana's hand. They both went without gloves as a matter of course when they met now, and Cassandra's hand was warm and calloused and scarred and perfect. "You are a complicated woman, Leliana, I could not hope to discern your feelings for me without you telling me yourself. But I could give of myself, with no expectations, and hope I might be able to provide you some comfort from your grief."

"That is what you do best, Cassandra, give of yourself without question." Leliana reached out to cup Cassandra's cheek in her hand, thumb brushing over the smaller scar beneath her right eye. The Seeker's eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the touch. "Now it is my turn to give something to you."

Then Leliana leaned in and kissed her.

Leliana had kissed dozens, perhaps even hundreds of people over the course of her life as a bard. She had kissed to catch people off guard, kissed to distract, and, occasionally, she had even kissed for nothing more than her own pleasure. She thought she knew every kind of kiss there was. But this kiss, oh this kiss was something new.

Cassandra's lips were dry and chapped and tasted of licorice from her tea. They were clumsy too, unused to and unpractised in the art of kissing. But what she lacked in skill and finesse, Cassandra made up for in enthusiasm and passion.

Leliana had always known Cassandra's passion was like a banked fire; still hot but subdued, under control. But if someone added more fuel and stoked it correctly, she would burn brightly once more. Cassandra was all fire, much like the dragons her family were famous for hunting.

Her kisses were a conflagration, and Leliana was helpless to resist them. She _burned_ with want and love, every press and retreat of Cassandra's lips stoking her own flames until she gasped for air.

When the fire died down once more, Leliana found herself sat astride Cassandra's lap with her back pressed into the table. Cassandra's hands gripped Leliana's hip firmly, but not hard enough to bruise. Her normally hazel eyes were dark with want, and yet they shone in such a way Leliana had never seen before. Happiness looked good on the Seeker.

"I love you, Leliana," Cassandra murmured with kiss-swollen lips. "I am yours, for as long as you will have me."

" _Ma cherie, j'e t'adore,_ I love you too. I am yours." They shared a brief, sweet kiss, much gentler than their earlier passion. Afterwards, Leliana made no move to extract herself from Cassandra's lap, content with her seat. If anyone came up to the Rookery and saw the Inquisition's terrifying Spymaster practically _cuddling_ the woman she loved, well, she would deal with it. Leliana was not ashamed of this, of her love, and she would not hide it.

She looked over her shoulder at their half-drunk mugs of tea, long forgotten. Steam no longer curled enticingly from the top. "Our tea has gone cold," Leliana said, disgusted. Drinking cold tea was less than pleasant.

Cassandra laughed, long and bright, lighting up the dark corner's of Leliana's soul. "There will always be more tea, Leliana."

"You are right, of course, _ma cherie_. You will still bring me tea in the evenings, now we know how we feel? Even after I have taken you to my bed?"

Cassandra cupped Leliana's cheek and said with complete sincerity, "Corypheus himself could not stop me from doing so."

The mention of their great enemy _almost_ spoiled Leliana's mood. There was still so much she needed to do if the Inquisition was to be victorious. But here and now she had been offered a reprieve, a moment of pure happiness to help ward off the dark days to come. Leliana decided she would grasp it with both hand; after all, it was rude to refuse a gift from the Maker, for that was surely what Cassandra was.

"I think I am done working for the evening," she said, finally extracting herself from her seat across Cassandra's muscular thighs. "I should retire." She held out her hand. "Will you join me?"

Cassandra took the hand Leliana offered. "Always"

Later, curled together in Leliana's narrow bed, the Nightingale sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker. She thanked Him for love, and for this moment of peace, and for tea.

As long as she lived Leliana would remain thankful for tea, and the woman who brought it to her with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Rapture" by Carol Ann Duffy


End file.
